A Story
by Extraordinarily Extraordinary
Summary: "The young girl, who had heard the story millions of times before, clapped wildly at her mother's tale." Post-ep for Always, contains spoilers.


**A/N: So, my second Castle story. Contains spoilers for 'Always' and everything before that so...everything. Don't read unless you want to be spoiled (and by that I mean have the show spoiled). Otherwise, please read and review!**

**I own nothing here! I don't own any characters, Andrew Marlowe and ABC do. I'm just playing with them for a bit. I don't think he'll mind. The fans are quite happy with him at the moment. But if he does mind, I'm sorry. Just remember, I don't own them!**

**So, here's the story! Please review and tell me your thoughts?**

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"Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She was just your regular old girl. She had a mommy and a daddy and they both loved her. She was happy. Some of her friends had older siblings or younger siblings and occasionally she wished she did too. But the though often left just as quickly as it had come. She didn't need brothers or sisters to be happy.

Her mom was a lawyer, one of the best at that. There wasn't anything her mother couldn't do. She was her idol in so many ways, the only woman she had to look up to. And she wasn't a disappointment. She held her head high and stood her ground, never swaying from her point. The little girl adored her mother. But she was a daddy's girl as well. She looked up to him for the strength and support she needed when she couldn't go to her mother. He helped her through the bullies and the fights while her mother helped her through the heartbreak and the drama.

She had it all. Or so she thought. Because, you see, life is full of twists and turns. Nobody really knows where they're heading because the route can change at any given moment with absolutely no warning at all. And that was just what happened to her.

When she was around twenty, just younger, something bad happened. Her mother died, somebody killed her.

It was devastating, broke her heart. Her mother. The only mother she had. Was gone. She was gone and she wasn't coming back. Most people would have crumbled. She would have too. If she had been told what happened. But nobody told her anything. She was left in a flurry of mysteries and questions. And so, instead of breaking down and dying inside, she turned to the only thing she knew, getting answers. She changed her route once more and took a turn towards being a police officer rather than a lawyer like her mother.

With her mother's death, her father broke down. He was rarely seen by her, by anyone, and when he was, he was drunk. It took a long time for her to finally realize that he needed help. He wasn't going to get it willingly, she was going to have to force it on him. But it worked, he got the help he needed eventually.

A few years later, she was still hunting for her answers. She had gotten nowhere. Nobody seemed to know anything and there were very few files regarding it. She moved through with her life, becoming a detective. It gave her a sense of right-doing, being able to supply families and loved ones with the closure she so desperately wished she had been able to get.

And then she met this writer. It was a strange case, involving cases straight from his books. She'd gone to question him...

_Richard Castle? Kate Beckett, NYPD, we'd like to ask you a few questions regarding a murder that took place..._

She'd never forget the way Alexis had so casually leaned over his shoulder and said that was new. She didn't understand what she meant, didn't find out for years. When she did, she'd laughed.

It was only supposed to be questioning, but it turned into him helping out with that case. Then he'd talked to his friend, the Mayor, and that led to him following her around, studying her, observing. He claimed she was his new 'muse' and he was going to write series based on her. He did. But she was fairly certain that he really didn't need to follow her around to do it.

As much as she protested and argued, she really didn't mind that much. Slowly, as time passed, her protests and arguments decreased and eventually became practically non-existent.

In a strange kind of way, he kept her sane, on her toes. And he helped. He helped a lot, surprisingly.

Not just with the day-to-day cases. He helped her with her mother's murder. He found new information, stuff she would have never found without him. He told her and, though she'd been angry, she was excited, excited to finally get the answers she'd been hoping, looking for, for so long.

It wasn't that easy. Nothing ever is, right? No, it took them years. They went through it all before a day came that changed everything. It changed the case, their lives, their feelings. Roy Montgomery, their captain, was killed trying to protect her. Then, at his funeral, she'd been shot.

He was the first one there, holding her, begging her to stay with him, to not die on him.

_Stay with me, Kate. Stay with me. I love you, Kate. I love you._

He'd told her that he loved her. But she was dying. Death bed confessions can go both ways. You say things you don't really mean in the moment.

She thought that was what had happened. So, to spare the awkwardness of taking it back, she just pretended to not remember what had happened. It was common, in cases like that, to not remember.

It was not, however, common to remember and then lie about it.

_I lied before. _

_What exactly do you remember?_

_I remember everything._

She'd talked to her therapist for months after the shooting. It helped, surprisingly. He was a great help. He helped her through the trauma, the PTSD, the confusion she felt, the anxiousness to get her answers about her mother. He helped her through it all.

She'd dropped the case though. There were no new leads, nothing popping up. She didn't know if she was doing it for herself or for him. He'd suggested she stop. So she did. Easy enough, well easy enough to drop it temporarily.

The next year was full of mixed emotions. She had to come to terms with what he had said. From the way he acted, the way they both acted, it was clear it wasn't a death bed confession. He'd meant it, he'd meant every word he said. But yet, she still pretended to not remember.

Why? She didn't know. Maybe because she wasn't ready, she knew she wasn't able to put her fullest into any relationship. The wall, she'd told him, the wall inside her had to come down first.

Truth in the matter was, the wall was already slowly crumbling. Slowly but surely, it was already coming down.

They danced. They danced for months around the topic. Avoiding it, awkwardly changing the subject. But there were moment, small but precious moments, where they didn't dance. There were glances, looks and smiles. Some hand holding and jokes between them that made her feel like everything was falling into place. But it was far from it.

The bomb case changed everything. He was late, arriving with coffee after she'd already gone into interrogation. She didn't know, couldn't have known, he had come and was in observation.

_I don't remember. It must be the trauma._

_The hell you don't remember! You want to know trauma? I was shot in the chest and I remember every second of it._

In hindsight, it wasn't the best thing to say. Anybody could have been in observation. But it wasn't anyone. It was the one person she'd been lying to, hiding this from, for months.

It was tense, after that. His warm looks turned to stone cold anger and she didn't know why. It didn't take too long to figure it out. And yet they still didn't say it aloud. Neither mentioned the events of that day until her mother's case came up again.

Turned out that he had made a deal with somebody to keep her safe, to keep her alive. Only condition was that she had to steer clear of the case. But she wasn't like that. She couldn't let it go.

_How could you do this to me?_

_Because I love you. But you already know that, don't you. You've known for about a year now._

And she had. She had known. And she did know that he knew she was lying. But that had just been the wrong time for him to bring it up. They'd fought more, her not even acknowledging the fact that he had just told her, to her living breathing face, that he loved her.

And he'd left.

She went after the guy, nearly died too, again. It was when she was hanging off of the roof, alone, that she realized it: she couldn't die, not yet, not without letting him know how she really truly felt. Because of course she loved him too. It had been four damn years. If she didn't, why else would she had let him stay so long?

She always backed him up, had his back, trusted him, believed in him. She laughed with him and smiled and they had their coffee together every morning. They even had a sort of code, for lack of a better word. Always wasn't just a word, it was their secret - silent - way of saying I love you.

_Castle!_

She had yelled his name. She could have sworn that she heard his voice yelling hers back. But when that arm pulled her over the edge, it wasn't him, it was Ryan.

Things fell apart after that. He was at Alexis' graduation and she quit. She couldn't handle it anymore. She thought about going home, did briefly, but she couldn't just sit in her apartment alone. She changed and went out, even though it was pouring rain. She went to the spot where she'd originally told him about the wall.

The wall that was gone now. There was nothing holding her back. She sat on the swing, in the rain, and realized that there had been nothing holding her back for a long time.

Without thinking, not bother to consider consequences or problems that could arise, she went over. She went to his apartment.

He'd opened the door, not surprised to see her.

_Beckett, what do you want?_

It took her a split second, didn't have to think about it at all, to answer, _You._

And she'd reached her hands up and kissed him. He was surprised about that, but he didn't pull away. Not right away. She whispered that she was sorry against his face and went to kiss him again. That was when he pulled her back to look her in the face, tears running and all.

_What happened?_

_He got away and I didn't care. I almost died...and all I could think about was you. I just want you._

And then he'd kissed _her_ back.

That was just the beginning. The summer sped by, each day bringing them closer to what would eventually become of them. It was ten months before she moved in, another seven before he proposed and only two seconds later she had accepted.

And then, on one really stormy fall day, he'd rushed her to the hospital. She wasn't sick, no, she was going to have a baby. Their baby. You."

The young girl, who had heard the story millions of times before, clapped wildly at her mother's tale. She pulled the covers up to her shoulders and smiled at her mom.

Kate Beckett/Castle tucked her daughter in and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too mommy," the young girl kissed her mother's cheek. "When does daddy come home?"

"Soon," she smiled. "I promise. He'll be here when you wake up in the morning."

"Okay," the little girl yawned and closed her eyes, resting her head on the pillow behind her.

Kate got up off the bed and turned off the light, closing the door three-quarters of the way and headed out to the kitchen to make coffee.

The door opened not half an hour later and in walked her husband, the love of her life, Richard Castle.

"Hey," she smiled, half walking, half running towards him. "How was your book tour?"

"Too long," he whispered against her lips, kissing her soundly. "No more."

She laughed, "You always say that."

"I mean it this time," he shook his head. I hate being away from you this long."

"You always say that too," she giggled. "Come on, I made coffee."

"I knew there was a reason I loved you," he teased and dropped his bag, following her into the kitchen. He picked up his mug and took a long refreshing sip. "Don't you think it's a bit late for coffee?"

"Only if you're planning on sleeping," she winked. "But I kind of had other plans in mind."

"Oh, really? Did you now?" Rick smiled, pulling her closer so she was pretty much on his lap. "What did you two do while I was gone?"

"This and that," she shrugged, leaning into him, breathing in his familiar yet missed scent. "I told her our story again tonight."

"Not the whole thing I hope!" he laughed. "That took us years to create, can't imagine you making it a ten minute bedtime story."

"Well, she's eight years old," Kate said. "I don't think she needs _all_ the details, right?"

"Got that right," he said. "They are wildly inappropriate for an eight year old. Hell, they're wildly inappropriate for Alexis and she's twenty-eight."

Kate rolled her eyes and got up off his lap.

"Hey! Did I say you could get up?" Rick asked her, chuckling slightly when she stuck out her tongue.

They weren't, but they still acted like teenagers in love sometimes.

"I kind of had other things in mind," she reminded him. "Come on, let's go to bed?"

He didn't need to be asked twice.

God, he'd missed that woman. And god, he loved her.

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**A/N: And there you have it. Please let me know your thoughts? And, let me know your thoughts on the finale?**


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